


What Friends Are For

by Deastar



Series: They Say Love Heals All Wounds [9]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Psychics/Psionics, Fantasizing, Friendship, M/M, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-02 00:08:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8643505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deastar/pseuds/Deastar
Summary: Someone starts pounding on the door of the hotel room. For a second, Sid’s tempted to ignore it... but it could be important. He stashes the bottle of lotion under the covers and quickly wipes his hand off on the sheets. “Coming!” he yells, and then he has to laugh, because no, sadly, he’s not.
 Set in Sid's first year as captain, years before the events of They Say Love Heals All Wounds, but in the same universe.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in the universe of They Say Love Heals All Wounds, and I don't think it'll make a ton of sense without having read that, first. Also, If you have a very strong embarrassment squick, you may want to skip this one.

_“Fuck, I’m horny,” Flower says, stretching out his long limbs before collapsing on the hotel bed._

_Sid is sure he’s bright red – his stomach is churning with waves of alternating arousal and discomfort. He and Flower don’t talk about sex, and he doesn’t know why Flower is doing it now. But his body can’t help responding to the splay of Flower’s spread legs._

_When he forces his gaze back up to Flower’s face, Flower is giving him a considering look. It makes the back of Sid’s neck prickle. Casually, Flower says, “I bet you’d suck my cock, wouldn’t you. You like that, right?”_

_“I—” Sid’s jeans are tight and his cheeks are hot. Barely believing his own daring, he stammers out, “Y-yes. I do. I would.” He wants so, so badly. But he can’t help asking weakly, “Vero…”_

_“We have an understanding,” Flower says, before gesturing at his crotch. “Well? Come on, Sid, I don’t have all night.”_

_“Right, sorry,” Sid mumbles, getting up from his own bed and kneeling on the floor between Flower’s legs. Flower doesn’t sit up to look at Sid, doesn’t reach down to touch him – and why would he? He doesn’t like guys. He just wants to get off, and Sid’s convenient._

_Sid reaches for Flower’s zipper—_

And Sid’s phone starts ringing, breaking right through the fantasy.

“Fuck,” Sid moans, pulling his hand out of his boxers. He throws his free arm over his face and tries to decide whether or not he wants to answer it. “No,” he says decisively, shoving his hand back into his boxers and ignoring the ringing phone. If it’s important, they’ll leave a message, and it’s been a week and a half since Sid’s had the time or the energy to take his time getting off with a real fantasy.

_Back in Sid’s fantasy, Flower’s jeans and briefs are on the floor and Flower’s long, lean thighs are bare for Sid’s touch. Sid wants to kiss them, stroke them, but Flower reaches down to tug on Sid’s hair impatiently, so Sid leans in and licks up the underside of his cock—_

Someone starts pounding on the door of the hotel room. For a second, Sid’s tempted to ignore that, too – but it could be important. He stashes the bottle of lotion under the covers and quickly wipes his hand off on the sheets. “Coming!” he yells, and then he has to laugh, because no, sadly, he’s not. He throws on his baggiest sweatpants and shuffles up to the door, hoping he can angle himself to keep his crotch out of sight.

He cracks the door open and peers out into the hall.

It’s Flower.

 _Oh, fuck_ , Sid thinks, with a sudden wave of nausea. _Be normal_ , he tells himself numbly. _If he knew you were thinking about him, he’d be mad, and he doesn’t look mad. So he doesn’t know. But he will if you keep acting weird._ Sid stifles the voice in his head berating him for ever having been dumb enough to fantasize about a strong reader, and by an effort of will, he smiles. “Hey, Flower. What’s up?”

“Hey, Sid.” Flower smiles back – it looks kind of goofy, but Sid has always liked Flower’s smile. “Can I come in? I need to tell you something.”

Sid’s captain instincts immediately take over, and he nods sharply. “Yeah, of course. You can talk to me about anything.” He invites Flower in, hoping the room doesn’t smell like sex too much – at least the moment of panic earlier took care of his boner problem.

When Flower takes a seat on the edge of Sid’s bed, Sid sits beside him and waits in what he hopes is supportive silence.

“I need to tell you something,” Flower repeats, “and I need you to promise you won’t freak out when I do. I know you’re going to want to freak out, but just… don’t, okay?”

“I promise I won’t freak out,” Sid says, worried for real now. The build-up is killing Sid, and he asks, “Flower, what do you need to tell me?”

Flower looks Sid in the eye and says, “I want to tell you it’s okay for you to think about me. When you jerk off.”

Sid’s whole body flushes hot with shock and shame, then floods with icy fear. He can’t move, he can’t breathe – this is the worst thing, the absolute worst thing—no one on the team is ever going to trust him again… and for it to be Flower, Flower who’s always been so good to Sid—and now he _knows_ , he read it on Sid, he _saw_ all the stuff Sid thought about him, and he’s disgusted, he has to be—

Flower is saying, “I’m not grossed out – Sid, I told you, it’s okay, it’s fine,” but Sid can’t process it. He folds in on himself, clutching his own arms hard enough to bruise, hyperventilating. When Flower touches his shoulder, Sid flinches violently— _he’ll hurt me_ —

“I’m not going to hurt you, Sid,” Flower says patiently. “Come on, you promised not to freak out.”

Sid takes a deep breath, and manages a half-laugh. It sounds unhinged. “How am I not supposed to—you saw… all the stuff I—I thought about you—”

“Yes,” Flower says calmly, “and it’s really okay.” When he touches Sid’s shoulder again, Sid lets him, although he holds himself stiff, ready to flinch away if he needs to. Flower continues, “Your shields are so good, Sid – I can’t read past them normally. But it’s… hard to keep your shields so good when you’re… feeling a lot of other things,” Flower finishes, with generous tact.

Sid’s cheeks burn anyway. “I’ll get better,” he swears, “I’ll practice—”

“Okay,” Flower says, stroking his palm up and down Sid’s back, soothing. “That’s probably a good thing – you never know when a really strong reader might be around. But you don’t have to for me, Sid. That’s what I’m saying. I don’t mind. It doesn’t bother me if you think about me.” He smiles. “You have my permission to get off to thinking about my sexy body, okay?”

A horrible, stupid hope bubbles up inside of Sid’s fried brain— _it almost sounds like he_ — and somehow finds its way to his mouth. “Did you… like—?” Sid starts, in half a voice, trying to hold down his heart—

But the look Flower gives him is too kind to mean anything good, and Sid drops his head, humiliated twice over.

“I like you, Sid,” Flower says gently, still stroking Sid’s back like Sid’s mom used to do when he had the flu. “But for sex, I only like women. Really, I only like Vero,” he corrects, and Sid can hear the smile in his voice.

“I know,” Sid says, wishing he could take his disappointment out behind the hotel and punch it in the face. He has no fucking right to that disappointment – it’s not like he didn’t _know_ he was the only one, not like he didn’t _know_ that Flower would never really look at him that way.

Flower says, “Oh, Sid,” and he sounds like he’s hurting, and Sid knows he’s got to be one step away from pitying Sid if he isn’t there already, and Sid has got to get out of here, get away, _somewhere_ —

Flower says quietly, “Please don’t leave, Sid. Please don’t.”

Sid can’t look at him. “Why not?” he chokes out.

“Because I don’t think you believe me yet,” Flower answers, steady. “Look at me, Sid, come on.”

Sid really doesn’t want to look at Flower, but he’s not very good at saying no to Flower for exactly the reason that got him into this disaster in the first place. He lifts his head and looks Flower in the eye, preemptively wincing.

Flower doesn’t look mad. And he doesn’t look pitying, either. He just looks… like a person Sid knows, and loves, who loves Sid back, even if it’s not in the way that Sid was dumb enough to want. In a low voice, Flower says, “This is what it’s like to be a really strong reader, Sid. You always know. You know how many times I’ve seen myself in other people’s fantasies? You know the crazy positions I’ve seen my body in, in other people’s heads?” he adds, with a smile that invites Sid to share the joke.

Sid doesn’t feel up to smiling, but knowing that he’s not the only one does make him feel a little bit better.

“For Vero, it’s the same,” Flower continues. “We’re both so used to seeing other people’s fantasies about us that you almost… block it out. It’s like… white noise, you know?”

“But you noticed mine,” Sid says, and his voice comes out rough and heavy.

“Yeah.” Flower shrugs. “It’s… pretty often, and you’re a person I actually pay attention to.”

“Oh.” Sid isn’t sure how to feel about that. He sort of wants to be flattered, but mostly he wishes, for the first time in his life, that Flower _didn’t_ pay attention to him. Suddenly, it occurs to him to ask, heart in his throat, “Does anyone else—”

“Know?” Flower shakes his head. “No. Well, Vero knows. But I didn’t tell her – I didn’t tell anyone. She just read it on me. And nobody on the team except me is a strong enough reader to get it from you, even when your shields are a little shaky.”

“They’ll get better,” Sid vows again. He can’t wrap his head around the idea that Vero _knows_ – he was just talking to her at Tanger’s party last weekend, and the whole time she knew that Sid fantasizes about her bondmate—

“I told you, Sid,” Flower says, still keeping his voice down, as if he’s afraid of spooking Sid, “Vero understands. It’s the same for her as it is for me: she sees herself or me—or both at the same time,” Flower adds, ruefully, “—in other people’s heads all the time, and it doesn’t bother her. It’s not a big deal, Sid. Not to either one of us.”

There’s more to how Sid feels about Flower than just the way their bodies fit together in his fantasies, of course, but Flower’s being nice enough not to mention that. And why would Vero be bothered by a man having feelings for her bondmate? She knows there’s no chance that Flower would ever reciprocate. She probably just pities Sid, running around after Flower like a puppy, Sid thinks bitterly.

“Sid, no,” Flower says, sounding upset, and Sid flushes. His shields must be a fucking wreck right now – it seems like Flower’s getting everything. “I wish you wouldn’t be so fucking hard on yourself,” Flower says, shaking Sid a little with the hand on Sid’s shoulder. “Even in your fantasies,” he adds, more softly, “you always make sure I’m not cheating on her. Like you couldn’t enjoy it if it would hurt her.”

Well, obviously. Vero is wonderful, and she makes Flower so happy. Of course Sid wouldn’t want Flower to cheat on her. _We have an understanding_ , fantasy-Flower always says, or _She said it was okay_. Sid can’t imagine it any other way.

Flower pulls Sid into a fierce hug, then mumbles into his hair, “You don’t even get how sweet that makes you.”

“Whatever,” Sid mumbles back, not sure what that’s supposed to mean. Flower gives really good hugs. It’s sort of the worst. Sid normally doesn’t even _like_ hugs.

Flower finally lets Sid pull back enough to feel like he has some space, but he keeps an arm around Sid’s shoulders. He just… _looks_ at Sid for long enough that it starts to make Sid uncomfortable. “You say what you came here to say?” he asks, twitching.

Flower nods. “Most of it. One more thing.” He meets Sid’s gaze and says, “You have my permission to think about me, okay? Always. You don’t ever have to worry about making me mad or freaked out or betrayed or whatever. But I have a condition.”

“No, yeah, of course,” Sid babbles, his cheeks heating again. He’s ready to hear _You can’t think about fucking me_ …

But Flower snorts and says, “Like I give a shit about that. No, Sid.” Still holding Sid’s gaze, he says quietly, “It’s okay if you think about having sex with me, but only if I’m… if I’m nice to you. No more of this… using-you shit, or being mean, or rude to you. No more of this you’re-just-a-hole-to-fuck. I can tell it doesn’t turn you on – I think it’s just… what you expect. I don’t care if you use the thought of me to get off, Sid, but I care a lot if you use the thought of me to hurt yourself.”

Sid’s stomach rolls at the further proof that Flower has seen everything, every private detail, and he doesn’t know what to make of Flower’s request, what to do. He feels humiliated, again, this time at Flower’s judgment. _Flower_ doesn’t know. He’s been with the love of his life since they were both kids. He doesn’t know what it’s like to never be anything more than convenient. Acid in his belly and in his throat, Sid spits, “So I should—what? Pretend you—you’re in love with me? Pretend we’re _soulmates_?” Flower has to know—he _has_ to—why Sid couldn’t bear to do that. Why that would hurt him worse than any fantasy of being used ever could.

But Flower shakes his head and pulls Sid against his side even closer. “No,” he says steadily. “Not if you don’t want to. But you could pretend we’re friends. You could pretend I like you. Because we are friends. And I do like you. And if we were fucking, I wouldn’t be a jerk to you. Come on, Sid. Am I a jerk?”

“No,” Sid is forced to admit. Flower is basically the nicest person Sid knows. Sid would be… pretty shocked, honestly, if Flower had ever actually treated a person he was having sex with in the entitled, callous way that Sid’s been imagining. So maybe Flower has a point. Very quietly, not sure if he even wants Flower to hear it, Sid says, “You’re right. It is… what I expect. What I’m used to.”

“Always?” Flower asks gently. He hasn’t let go of Sid this whole time.

Sid admits, “Not… not always.” There were a few guys, the ones his own age, back in juniors, who’d been decent about it. It was still nothing more than convenience for them, but they didn’t push him around or make him feel bad, and they’d cared enough to get him off, too. He could see Flower doing that.

Flower nods. “Good. So… like that, eh?” he prompts.

“Sure,” Sid mutters.

“You promise?” Flower presses. And of course he’ll _know_ if Sid doesn’t do it, Sid thinks with a squirm of discomfort.

So he thinks about it. There’s definitely something appealing about the idea that, at least in his own fantasies, people should be nice to him and treat him well. He wouldn’t fantasize about somebody punching him in the face, so why fantasize about somebody being rude to him and not caring if he gets off? Flower’s right – it doesn’t turn Sid on. He’s just used to it, so it seems more… realistic, maybe. But it’s just a jerk-off fantasy, Sid thinks – it doesn’t have to be realistic. And for Flower, at least, it’s _not_ realistic. Flower is nice. Flower’s niceness is part of the reason Sid likes him enough to be having jerk-off fantasies about him in the first place.

“Yeah,” Sid tells Flower, softly, “I can do that. I promise.”

“Sweet,” Flower says, dragging Sid in for another totally unnecessary two-armed hug. “That’s all I came here for,” he adds, disentangling himself from Sid and getting up from the bed, “so I’m going to go, and you can go back to whatever you were doing before I interrupted you.” Then, horrifyingly, he winks at Sid.

“Oh God.” Sid buries his face in his hands, mortified. That’s another really good reason to work on his shielding – however comfortable _Flower_ is with knowing when Sid is jerking off and what he’s thinking about, _Sid_ doesn’t think he’s ever going to be able to get it up knowing that Flower is watching.

When he drops his hands, he sees Flower rolling his eyes. “I’m going to be on the phone with Vero for the next hour, _very distracted_ with things more interesting than you, okay?”

Sid flushes. He mumbles, “Thank you, Flower.” Honestly, that does help.

As Flower heads toward the door, Sid realizes he never thanked him for the rest of it – for having this talk with Sid in the first place, even though it had to be incredibly awkward; for being okay with Sid having vivid fantasies about him on a regular basis; and finally, for insisting that Sid deserves to be treated nicely, even in his own head. It means a lot.

“Thank you, Flower,” Sid says, so quietly that he’s not sure Flower heard it.

But Flower stops, and smiles, and says, “That’s what friends are for, eh?” And then he’s out the door.

It takes Sid a few minutes to calm himself down enough that he feels like touching himself again, but he’s young and his dick is pretty resilient. When he’s naked and sprawled on the bed again, hand stroking the inside of his thigh, he closes his eyes.

_“You nervous about the game tomorrow?” Flower asks, voice low with concern._

_“A little,” Sid admits. “You know every time I play Ovechkin, the media makes such a big deal out of it, and it just adds more stress…”_

_“Sucks.” Flower bumps his shoulder against Sid’s – they’re sitting so close on the side of the bed. “You want to work off some of that stress? You’ll sleep better tonight.” He gives Sid an inviting grin that makes Sid blush._

_“I… yeah,” Sid manages, “I would. Do you want to, um, work off some stress, too? If it’s okay with Vero.”_

_“It’s okay,” Flower assures him, “and yeah, of course I do. You know I like your mouth,” he adds in a whisper, stroking his thumb across Sid’s lower lip._

_Heat flares at the base of Sid’s spine, and his breath comes faster. That desire in Flower’s eyes, in Flower’s voice, that’s for_ Sid _, not for just anybody, and it surprises Sid how much hotter that makes it. “You can have my mouth,” he rasps, sliding a palm up the inside of Flower’s thigh – god, he gets to_ touch _there, that’s so fucking amazing—_

_“Mm, you’re too good to me,” Flower murmurs, and then he reaches down to cup Sid’s hardening cock through his sweatpants. “Let me be good to you, too, eh?”_

_“I will,” Sid agrees, breathless._

After Sid comes, as he lies there panting in the wake of a way better orgasm than the ones he’s used to, he thinks dazedly, _Nicer is hotter. Okay. Good to know._ Another thing to thank Flower for, apparently – Sid thinks Flower will forgive him if Sid keeps this particular thank-you to himself.

 


End file.
